


let green bleed into blue

by honey-cas (Sandburrial)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ending Fix, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, I'm only fixing destiel so don't expect a fix for the whole show, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Indulgent, can someone who has not even seen the finale write a fix-it for it? of course!, don't worry it's very light, i have not written for spn since 2013 this is my new low
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28790274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandburrial/pseuds/honey-cas
Summary: //"They'll see right through me. They'll know. You and Sam, you're my weaknesses, you know that. Jack too. But if a monster ever knows how much you actually mean to me, what exactly you mean to me, and they use it against me, I am never going to forgive myself.""What do I mean to you, Dean?"//
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	let green bleed into blue

**Author's Note:**

> hi destiel cunts
> 
> I am not exactly well versed in the later seasons, but I could not just leave things like that. It was making me sick. So instead of feeling sick, I've decided to feel sad and write this with all my chest.

Castiel didn’t seem to be capable of staying dead. If there was a book somewhere culminating the number of times died and revived for every single living thing on earth, he was surely in the top 3, at the very least. It never got easier though, dying. It felt like it took a part of his soul each time he was moved from one plane of existence to another, or his equivalent of a soul. It felt harder to be an angel when he came back into being, like his grace needed time to recharge as payback for causing bureaucratic trouble in heaven, hell and the empty. They had to keep logs of who was where, especially for an angel as troublesome as him.

When Castiel found himself on earth again, standing on his own two feet solidly, he looked up at the sky and frowned. He had no idea what he had been doing last, who he had been talking to, what was said. He had no idea where he was standing, both emotionally and physically. All he remembered were his last words to Dean, the reason of his sacrifice. But he was not dead anymore, he didn’t feel dead. He was corporeal, at least he looked the part. He brought a hand to his over coat’s pocket, and he was able to stuff it in there without any trouble. He walked up to a tree and touched its bark, and his palm stayed on the surface of the wood, his skin feeling every ridge and bump.

He knew this was Jack’s doing since nobody else, except maybe for Sam and Dean, would want him back desperately enough to find him a way out. Based off his lack of traumatizing memories from the empty, he had probably not been down there for very long at all, and the Winchester brothers were well-read and quick, but not _that_ quick.

He tried to locate Jack, but he had no luck. He did not feel the presence of a single human around him either, and unless the entire world population had been wiped in his absence, he was powerless. He decided to walk through the forest and hope to find a river or a road, something he could follow until he would know where he was. Then, he’d be able to find a payphone, and he would try to reach Dean.

It was dark outside, and the stars were bright in the sky. He was probably quite far away from any city given the lack of light pollution. The moon was also at its zenith in the sky, so he guessed it was the middle of the night.

He kept walking in the same direction, feeling no fatigue whatsoever, which he felt was a good sign towards the restoration of his abilities. He would guess he had been walking for an hour when he began to hear cars, driving down a side road at the north-east of his current position. He went that way, and a little less than 5 minutes later, he found himself standing next to a stretch of asphalt. He chose to turn to his right and walk in that direction, feeling like that was the way he should’ve been going.

The road was long, and it was only illuminated with a lamp post once every 200 meters. It was the kind they put up to keep drivers awake rather than to shed light on the road. He walked for what felt like 3 more hours, and only 5 cars passed him in that time. He didn’t seem to be getting closer to any town, and he began doubting his decision to go right.

He was passing a lone lamp post when he noticed a car parked on the other side of the road, and after making sure there were no cars coming from either side, Castiel walked towards the middle of the road just so he could see what the situation was better. Maybe someone needed help.

There was only light coming from his side of the street, so all he could really see was the subtle glisten of the car’s chrome accents. It took him crossing over to the other side fully to see the man standing in front of the car, half sat on the hood as he looked up at the sky. Castiel’s eyes went wide with realisation as he recognized the car first, and the man second.

He must’ve made noise somehow, either by kicking a small rock or from the layers of fabric on his body rustling together, because in a flash, the man had taken out a gun and was aiming it right at Castiel’s head.

The streetlight illuminated Dean just enough for Castiel to see his bright green eyes staring at him in shock. Once the initial surprise passed, he began blinking quickly, standing up straighter and lowering his gun ever so slightly. His mouth was tense, and Castiel read anger in his eyes.

“Real fucking low, you goddamned bastard,” Dean spat, putting his whole body into it. He took a step forward and raised his gun, having seemingly decided that this was an enemy after all.

“Dean,” Castiel said in this way of his, in this way Lucifer mimicked so well, in this way that always caught Dean’s full attention. Gravelly, urgent.

The man halted his next step, some confusion joining the anger in his expression. He shut his eyes and dipped his head towards the ground, opening them again as to stare until it would give him answers. Quickly enough, he gained back his spirit.

“What kind of abomination are you, huh?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side and sighed, suddenly feeling the fatigue from his travels and his lack of powers hit him like a truck. He also itched to be off the road so he wouldn’t get hit by an actual truck.

“Dean, it’s me.”

It didn’t take this long until Dean believed him, usually. This was a strange event to have references for, but he had plenty of it.

Like clockwork, Dean took a deep shaky breath as he put his gun away, but instead of rushing to his side as he so desperately wanted to do, he beckoned Castiel closer to get him off the road.

Cas crashed into him, both from longing and exhaustion. Dean panicked for a second, reaching wildly to hold him up in his embrace as he whispered: “Okay, you’re okay, come on buddy.”

They held onto each other for a while longer than their standard hug typically lasted, and neither of them were clear on if that was due to that new revelation between them or to Castiel’s weakened state. They did not speak about it.

Dean helped Cas to the car hurriedly, surrounded by all kinds of questions that he neither had the energy or the time for. He was worried about Cas, worried that he wasn’t coming back to him in one piece. Scared that he wasn’t coming back to him at all.

Once Castiel was seated and seat-belted (“Dean, I can do it myself.” “Don’t you move.”), Dean ran to the other side of the impala, dropping himself in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

Castiel’s eyes were glued to Dean’s profile as he began driving away, and he didn’t like how tight his features were, how intensely concerned he looked. His grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles pale with tension.

“Where even are we?” Castiel’s voice came hoarse and broken, and Dean almost winced when he heard it.

“Close to home. 45-minute drive.”

Castiel nodded, more to himself than to Dean. Still, the man gave him a brief glance, his anxiety still decipherable in his tired eyes and his locked jaw. After that last forlorn stare, Cas tried to fight against it, but he collapsed with sleep faster than he figured was custom.

Dean had a quick half-smile when he noticed the angel was sleeping, but then there was that voice in his head that went _angels don’t sleep unless something is seriously wrong_.

////////

Castiel was sleeping most of the time at first. He was awake for 2 or 3 hours a day for the first week, but he didn’t seem to have any other physiological needs. He had no interest in food, no matter how many burgers Dean offered him.

Sam would check in once in a while, knocking softly on his door until he heard movement and then cracking it open to ask if there was anything he could do. The answer never changed.

Castiel felt a little bit better after a week, he was able to stay up for most of the day and he was starting to pick up on angel radio again. He couldn’t wait to hear Jack’s voice, or for him to come down for a visit.

His wings were still battered, so he did not dare let them stretch at all. He could not fly anywhere, and would probably not be able to for a long time.

Castiel had been back for a week and a half when he attempted to come out of his room for the first time. He didn’t need to shower, but he still allowed himself one just for the feel of it. If he used Dean’s body wash so he could smell like him, he didn’t bother thinking about it for too long and Dean did not mention it at any moment if he noticed.

After his shower, he made his way to the library where Sam was reading something on his computer.

“Hi Sam,” he said casually, as if they had been chatting not too long ago.

Sam startled at the sound of his voice, turning sharply in his chair and standing up to meet him by the entrance.

“Cas, hey. Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Cas hurried to say, having no real interest in this small talk even though he knew it was the polite thing to do. “Where is Dean?”

Sam had a fleeting but understanding smile before he pointed in the direction to the kitchen with a head tilt.

Castiel gave a short nod before he said: “Thank you.”

He made his way to the kitchen with a sheepish pace, realizing now that what had been hanging in the air since he appeared back on earth was probably going to be discussed. That was only if Dean was in a mood to talk, there was quite a big chance he wouldn’t be. Either way, Castiel knew he wouldn’t have answers to Dean’s questions, no memories had come back to him at all. When he had asked Dean how long he had been gone in one of his rare moments of consciousness, Dean had simply said: “4 days” and refused to talk again while he sat at the foot of Cas’ bed, keeping his hand on his shin.

He arrived in front of the kitchen but didn’t enter, waiting for Dean to notice he was there instead. It took about 30 seconds for Dean to turn around to the sink to clean the knife he was holding, and he dropped it in as soon as he saw Cas standing there. His lips were parted from the surprise, and it took a suspiciously long time until he exhaled the air in his lungs.

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean said through a heavy sigh of relief, walking to him without a second thought and wrapping him up in a tight embrace.

Castiel hugged back, allowing himself to hold on to Dean closer than he normally would, but only because Dean had done it first.

Dean backed away suddenly, bringing his hands up to grab Cas’ face and moving him around to check if he was truly alright with his own hands. Dean only trusted his hands and his eyes, he knew Castiel would lie and say that he was fine even if he wasn’t.

He was beaming. Castiel had a quick nervous smile as he looked at him, trying so very hard for his eyes not to get sad and teary and failing spectacularly.

“Cas,” Dean whispered again when he noticed, his smile falling instantly before he reached for another hug, holding the back of Cas’ head against his shoulder and allowing his face to go where it fit on the side of his neck. They held onto each other for so long that they had no other choice but to breathe each other in. Dean noticed the soap.

What Dean had been making on the stove started producing smoke, so he left Castiel’s side and ran up to remove the offending pan with the burning onions. He chucked it in the sink and turned to Castiel again, shaking his head as he held back an awkward smile.

“Did I ruin your dish?” Castiel’s tone was apologetic even though he was asking only to fill the silence.

“Nope. Just burned the onions.”

They stood there and stared at each other now, Dean still nodding somewhat as to make himself look less uncomfortable and Castiel keeping his gaze firmly locked on the floor.

“Well,” Dean tried, looking up with a fake smile, “do you know how you got out?”

“No,” Castiel admitted simply, making it clear that he would have no answer for Dean.

“Ok,” Dean replied bluntly, putting unnecessary gravitas into it so his deception at not being humoured would come across better.

Castiel sighed as he took a couple steps into the kitchen. “I wish I had answers Dean, I just don’t think I have anything to say about that. I think we have… other things to talk about.”

Dean was the one transfixed on the floor now, bringing a fist to his mouth and clearing his throat apprehensively. He took his hand away and glanced up right at Castiel’s face, feigning confidence.

His words betrayed him. “I don’t… I haven’t found a way to talk about it yet.”

Castiel kept approaching, taking slow steps into the kitchen still. Even though Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest like a drum, he still took a moment to think to himself how adorable that was.

Dean grew uncomfortable with the silence again, so after rubbing his face with his hand, he gave up and began spilling. His voice was shaking.

"I don't think it gets easier. It's been difficult to deal with since I started thinking about it, and I've never been able to stop thinking about it. It was worse when Dad was alive but I still... I still can't."

Castiel gave one curt nod. His expression was grim, but empathetic.

He nudged Dean on as gently as he knew how. "You can't do what?"

Dean was in a wordy mood it seemed like, but he was still holding back, still stopping himself from saying too much.

"I can't let myself believe that I can be loved,” he explained with a smile that did not reach his eyes, pitying his own sorry existence. He hated himself for what he was saying, but he couldn’t stop. “Not in this way. If I let myself get what I want and I give you what you want, what's gonna happen?"

Castiel was honestly confused at that question. He tilted his head to the side and squinted.

"Nothing else has to happen. It can be just you and me. I'd be really happy."

Dean had a panicked laugh, and he had to move, he had to do something, so he walked away from the sink and put his hands on the counter, letting himself fall forward and holding his upper body up.

"I know you would...” he said to himself in this heart-breaking tone of voice that made Castiel suck in a sharp inhale that he didn’t need, “but this is not about me and you, this is about all I've done with my life. If I stop now I'm letting people..."

Dean stopped himself so he wouldn’t have to say it, but he didn’t need to. Castiel knew that what Dean was saying, that if he stopped hunting, he would be directly responsible for people’s deaths. Cas knew why it seemed like a logical way to see things for Dean, but he was running out of ways to explain why it wasn’t logical.

"You are not, Dean. You are not responsible for the world. You have done so much, you have been so good, but you deserve a break. Even if you keep hunting, or if we keep hunting together, what stops us from..."

Castiel interrupted himself that time, because he didn’t know how far he was allowed to go. What stopped them from what? Dating? Loving one another? He didn’t know what he should’ve opted with, so he chose nothing.

"They'll see right through me,” Dean stated, his voice breaking again as he did. “They'll know. You and Sam, you're my weaknesses, you know that. Jack too. But if a monster ever knows how much you actually mean to me, what exactly you mean to me, and they use it against me, I am never going to forgive myself."

Halfway through his speech, Dean had turned around and away from the counter and was now looking straight into Castiel’s eyes. He seemed confused when he saw the small, shy smile on Cas’ face.

In this airy, innocent way, Castiel asked: "What do I mean to you, Dean?"

Dean begged Castiel not to press the issue further with nothing but his gaze. He was holding himself awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his entire body.

Still, after a pained sigh, he answered, because he wouldn’t allow himself to run. "Fuck, Cas. You know what you mean to me."

Cas had a sorry smile, because he loved this man, but he wanted to allow him the liberation he needed.

"I have never heard you admit it to yourself,” he started so very sweetly, letting Dean know that he was absolutely safe in the only way he could. “I have never heard you say it clearly. I know you feel extremely uncomfortable at the thought of saying it out loud, of saying anything that would hint towards you being vulnerable, but you can't act for the rest of your life."

He was so sorry for saying that, unbelievably sorry, and Dean forgave him on the spot.

Dean's lower lip started shaking before he spoke. "I... You mean freedom to me, Cas. You mean an escape. You're the only person besides Sam that I ever felt really knew me. But that you already know."

"You mean freedom to me too."

Dean seemed hopeful for a second, mouthing _“I know”_ before his composure fell again, realizing he still had to say what Cas wanted to hear.

"But other than that, you mean salvation, forgiveness... I feel stupid saying that."

"I know you do, that's why you need to."

Dean agreed with a nod, then silently asked Cas to join him in the middle of the kitchen with one look. Thankfully, he understood instantly and walked the few short steps there was between them.

"You just want to hear me say cheesy stuff," Dean said with a badly concealed smirk.

Castiel was unapologetic, shrugging at Dean’s statement. "Maybe I do. Maybe you need to let yourself say _“cheesy stuff”_ for once."

Dean laughed at the air quotes, and though it was short lived, Castiel was happy to hear it. His eyes were softer after that, and he took a deep breath before he talked again.

"You... You're strength in the weirdest way. Everything I've been told made me weak makes you righteous. Caring, loving.”

He broke again after that, his lower lip’s quiver giving him away. “And I still do care, and I still do love, but I can't let go."

Castiel had to touch him, to comfort in, so he reached for his shoulder and squeezed softly.

"You were never weak, Dean."

Dean cast him a quick look and smiled tightly. "You would say that. Even if I don't let myself love you, it's not a switch that you turn off. So even if I don't say it, I still do, and I thought that could be enough."

Time seemed to stop then. Castiel was mesmerized by Dean’s face, watching him in anticipation. _I still do_. _I still do_.

Castiel’s voice got caught in his throat as he asked: "You what, Dean?"

They stood together in silence for a little bit until Dean reached for one of Cas’ hands and held it gently. He picked up his courage, more courage than most could imagine, and he parted his lips to speak.

"I love you, Cas. I love you."

He seemed shocked with himself once the words were out, letting his gaze jump all over Cas’ face, looking for validation. Castiel grinned eagerly in response.

"I love you too," he sighed adoringly.

There was such certainty in Dean’s voice when he spoke again that it was intimidating. "You're not going anywhere this time."

"No, nowhere," Castiel promised as he held on Dean’s fiery eye-contact.

For a moment, he thought that he was going to kiss him, but instead he chuckled to himself and said: "I feel naked."

"But do you feel better? Or, at least, lighter?"

"I feel... Empty. In a good way."

Cas understood what he meant perfectly, after keeping it in for so long as well. The feeling was one of relief, of satisfaction after doing what begged to be done.

On a whim, Castiel pulled on Dean’s hand and walked a couple of steps backwards.

"Follow me."

Dean chortled undignifiedly, panic rising inside of him in a matter of milliseconds. "Cas, I'm not sure I've signed up for this-"

Cas rolled his eyes dramatically before he started guiding Dean through the bunker and to his bedroom.

"Don't panic, Dean,” Castiel appealed, and Dean started walking closer to him after that.

They entered Dean’s bedroom together and Cas went right for the bed like it was his own.

“Come here, sit."

"Feels serious,” Dean joked, sitting next to Cas unceremoniously. “Or intimate, either way-"

"I'll never do anything you don't want to do, Dean. I don't want to rush you further, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable."

Dean linked their hands again, intertwining their fingers together as he stared at them with wonder.

"It's not your fault, buddy. I don't want to be a downer, but I have a lot of things to work through. It'll probably take a while before I... Before I stop being a bit tense."

"I understand. You know I have all the time in the world."

Dean gave a weak smile, trying to keep his composure but feeling so incredibly guilty to be doing this to him. He felt disgusted with himself for the same reasons he felt proud, fighting alone against his own mind, the sole soldier on the field driving himself to insanity searching for the enemy. He didn't know how long it would take him to crawl out of the trenches and find out it was just him the whole time.

"You do, but I don't."

"You deserve time to think, Dean. You need to digest this, I don't expect you to reinvent the way you act with me or talk to me. We can keep talking later too, if you'd prefer."

"No, no. I want you here."

"Alright, I'm staying then."

Dean felt stiff, his whole body tight with anxiety and fear. He tried to relax, or at least let his body go lax as much as he could, but he could not do much. It hurt, his back was too straight, and his shoulders were squeezing against both sides of his chest like vices. He looked like he was trying to make himself smaller.

He tensed up to his full potential when Castiel touched his shoulder, reacting disproportionately to how soft the contact had been, but he quickly settled down. The tension in his upper body seemed to leak out of him and he fell forward ever so slightly. With his eyes to the floor, Dean sucked in a breath.

"How long have you felt that way before telling me?"

"Years. It would've felt like an eternity had I been human, I presume. I had the advantage of a different frame of reference. I also had great insight into your mind, that saved me some dwelling that could have been painful."

If Dean’s confused head tilt was anything to go by, something was bothering him.

"How much... How much insight?"

Castiel laughed freely, sharing a knowing gaze with Dean.

"Enough. Not so much as to prey on every single one of your emotions, but sometimes I pick up on things instinctually. It's not something I can put on hold."

"I get it. It'd be like asking me to stop seeing without closing my eyes."

"Yes, it's similar."

"And nothing you heard or saw made you feel like pulling an Eternal Sunshine on me?"

"I think the one thing that scares me most is the thought of forgetting you, Dean."

Dean cleared his throat so Castiel could not see his words were affecting him. He straightened out, rolling his shoulders briefly as to shake himself out of his own head. Instead of replying, he nodded, self-consciousness bleeding through his every move as Cas looked at him with a careful gaze.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Dean blinked an alarming amount of times, looking blankly in front of him until he seemed to come back down to earth.

“Oh.”

Castiel, enthralled with all that Dean was, observed him lovingly as he delt with his embarrassment. They had time to clear things up and decide what they were going to do together, and no apocalypse would get in their way now.

Once the embarrassment passed, Dean smiled to himself in a self-satisfied smirk. He turned to Cas with intent, and in this moment, he decided he had thought things through as much as he needed to.

Dean pushed himself forward, let green bleed into blue, and kissed his angel.

**Author's Note:**

> bye destiel cunts
> 
> tumblr : [honey-cas](http://honey-cas.tumblr.com)


End file.
